


Reciprocation

by sanguisuga



Series: Aberrant Fragments [12]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And Is Too Sexy For His Own Good, Because He Has A Motorbike, Because What Else Would I Post, Because of course he is, But So Does Greg!, Greg Is A Bit Of A Player, Light Angst, M/M, Mcyroft Is A Bit Of An Outcast, Naturally Myc Has A Crush, Oral Sex, The Only Thing I'm Good For, Uncertainty and Doubt, What A Coincidence!, With Hot Sex, high school age, it gets resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: A misunderstanding nearly ends a very promising relationship before it even begins...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sort of mixing up US and UK school systems, but ehhhhh...

“You cannot be serious.”

Greg winked up at Mycroft from where he was artfully slouched against his motorbike, his chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. “Course I am. I know better than to try and take the piss with you, Myc.”

Mycroft frowned down at Greg’s leather-clad shoulders, that familiar swirl of warmth spinning in his belly. Just the sight of him, his dark hair shot through with strands of premature silver gleaming in the dim light of the garage, was enough to make his body betray him utterly. Even now his erection was pressing painfully into his zip, its displeasure being broadcast quite loudly, throbbing sharply with each beat of his heart.

He never thought that he would be one to be ensnared by the stereotypical ‘cool kid’, the very idea enough to induce him to roll his eyes heavenward and let out a sharp huff of disgust. But all it had taken was one saucy look out of large chocolate-brown eyes rather ridiculously lined with kohl, one glance at a well-turned thigh accompanying a wicked leer, and he had rather unexpectedly found himself on the back of a bloody motorcycle dodging much more substantial vehicles through the crowded city streets.

Mycroft had gasped appropriately at every inappropriate action that his unlikely kidnapper had taken, which had only enticed the reckless idiot into even more foolhardy manoeuvres. And of course Greg did it all with an easy grace that left Mycroft’s head spinning with unfathomable lust. He had clutched harder at the narrow waist with every sharp corner that they had taken together, feeling the muscles in the unfairly lean stomach tense and release under his fingers.

Soon enough he had found himself following each of Greg’s subconscious cues, anticipating the turns, leaning with him, crouching down against his back to make his body less air resistant as the bike was given an extra kick of speed. They seemingly thought as one, moved as one, and even in his bespoke chinos and cashmere jumper, Mycroft himself felt ‘cool’ for one shining if absurd moment.

Now he just felt like an idiot, wiping the vestiges of Greg’s come from the corner of his lips. As soon as they had pulled into his family’s garage out of sight of prying eyes, Mycroft had slipped off the back of the bike and onto his knees, right there on the cold concrete floor. He could have said that it was the frightening manner of their transport that had made him too shaky to stand, but they both knew the truth.

They both knew that it was _because_ it was dangerous, because Greg laughed in the face of said danger, quite frankly ran roughshod over it, that Mycroft’s blood was boiling with the need to take him in his mouth. And so he did, oh yes.

Greg had barely managed to set the kickstand in place, holding his over-eager assailant off with one hand until he had flung his leg over and fumbled at his own zip, freeing himself and leaning back with a small grin. Even though Mycroft had never gone as far as this before, his previous forays with sex relegated to awkward kisses and chaste fumbling over trousers, he did not hesitate to plant his nose right into the wild thatch of tight curls at Greg’s groin.

Encouraged by the soft gasp from above, the low grunts of ‘yeah, baby, like that,’ he had let instinct guide him, and apparently very satisfactorily at that, if the bitterness lingering at the back of his throat was anything to go by.

Mycroft shifted uneasily on his feet, his hands turning into loose fists of frustration. “But surely, you...”

Greg shook his head curtly. “I’m not a cocksucker, mate.” He held up his hands and shrugged diffidently. “Not got nothin’ against it, obviously. It’s just not for me.”

Mycroft’s fists tightened, his short nails starting to dig into his flesh. He could ascertain no scorn or disgust in Greg’s voice, just simple honesty. In a way, that made the overt rejection all that much more difficult for him to bear. He could feel the heat of humiliation rising in his face, his eyes beginning to prick with tears. He threw his shoulders back and tilted his head slightly, looking down on Greg with lofty disdain. “I see that I was mistaken in my overtures. I apologise for my forwardness.”

Greg grinned at him, stupidly beautiful and utterly carefree. “Nah, no need for that. You were brilliant.” He gestured vaguely at Mycroft’s groin, his tongue darting out to wet his lips subconsciously. Although Mycroft’s erection was no longer quite as angry as it had been, his cock was still fairly tumescent, and the bulge was rather obvious. “You gonna take care of that? I’ll, um - watch, if you like...”

Mycroft huffed, taking a step back. “I’ll not detain you. Surely you must have a veritable bevy of young ladies who would be more than happy to entertain you in a more socially acceptable fashion.”

Greg sputtered inelegantly. “Hey now, that’s not...”

“Am I safe in presuming that this will remain between us?”

Greg stared at him blankly. “Yeah, ‘course. I’m not the kinda bloke that...” Mycroft arched a sardonic eyebrow, and Greg’s voice petered out as a bright blush broke out over his cheeks. “Alright, so I might brag every now n’ again, but I dun’t slag anyone off.” He reached out halfheartedly, his arm falling back to his side as Mycroft shuffled away from him and closer to the door. Greg caught his lower lip between his teeth as he dropped his gaze to his feet a little shamefully. “I won’t tell nobody. Din’t mean to hurt ya - it was just a bit of fun, right?”

Mycroft turned his back on him before any tears managed to escape, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Fun - right. I do appreciate your discretion.” He glanced circumspectly over his shoulder at the figure slumped against his motorbike, reaching out to open the door leading into the house. “I would also appreciate you not speaking to me ever again.”

“Hey, wait, no - Myc!”

Mycroft flinched away as Greg hastily abandoned his perch and reached for him. He slipped inside the house, holding the door open just a crack as he looked at that remarkably pretty face one last time. “Kindly lose my number, Lestrade.”

And then the door was shut and bolted. Mycroft shook his head as the faintest echo of Greg’s response wafted in through the cracks in the door. _“Dammit.”_ And then he trudged upstairs to the bathroom, running utterly frigid water for his shower. He probably would still take himself in hand at some point in the night - he _was_ a teenager, after all. But he would be sure to take his inspiration from sources other than the memory of this evening. Mycroft was determined that his unseemly libido would not be rewarded with imaginings of that particular dark-haired boy and his unearthly luminous eyes and his ridiculously endearing cheeky grin.

Mycroft sighed, shivering a little harder as he turned the water just a shade colder. _Dammit_ , indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleased to see that people are appreciating this so far! Please - appreciate it some more...
> 
> xo, lovelies!

The following Monday at school was difficult, mostly because Mycroft took pains to avoid all of the places where he knew Greg and his friends tended to congregate. There was only one class that they both attended and although they usually sat together, this time Mycroft made sure that he was there early. He took a seat at the back of the room, and even though he kept his head down and attention focused on his notes, he was almost absurdly aware when Greg sauntered in through the door. Mycroft sighed faintly - late as usual.

His body tensed up as he waited for him to slump down next to him, but with a quick glance up at the whole of the room, he saw that Greg was sitting near the front - a distinct aberration in his usual behaviour. Mycroft almost snickered at the look that their History teacher was giving the ne’er-do-well, obviously expecting some mischief. But Greg behaved himself all through the class, only glancing back at Mycroft once, and rather obliquely at that. Mycroft pretended that he was taking more notes, affecting an air of supreme indifference.

He braced himself as the class came to an end, expecting that Greg would possibly try to get him on his own at some misguided attempt at an apology. But when he looked up, the leather-clad shoulders were gone, and there was no sign of him as he stepped out into the hall. It seemed that Greg was respecting Mycroft’s wishes to the best of his ability.

_Dammit._

Mycroft shook his head, clutching his books to his chest. Well, he had specifically told him _not_ to, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what he wanted? So why did the thought of actually never speaking to Greg again make his stomach hurt so badly? Fighting off an indistinct sensation of nausea, Mycroft slipped out the side door and stopped dead at the top of the stairs.

Greg glanced up at him from where he was loitering on the green with his little gang and then away, quickly taking a drag on his cigarette. He turned away, putting his back both to the building and to Mycroft. His friends seemed to note the sudden unusual tension between them, and Mycroft swallowed hard as Jeff, the nastier of the two, sneered up at him.

“Heyyy Mycie... Wanna fag?”

Mycroft shook his head curtly, keeping his attention on his feet as he descended the stone steps. Stephen, the smallest and meekest of Greg’s little gang, looked between their faces, his mouth turning down into a slight frown.

“Aw, c’mon, Mycie lad. Maybe Greg’ll take you out on his bike again if you’re good.”

“Oi - leave it.” Greg tossed his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out decisively. “Knock it off, mate.” He glanced back at Mycroft and tilted his head in the direction of the path, his dark eyes tight with concern.

Mycroft took the hint and started to scurry in the direction of home, coming up short as Jeff swerved to intercept him. He cowered back as Greg shoved his way in between them, raising his arms in a protective and sheltering gesture. Mycroft took a step back from the awkward tableau as Jeff’s face twisted.

“Ah, why the hell do you care, Greggy? I’ve seen him dodging around us all day - never did that before. Doesn’t talk to nobody. Ever. But he talks to _you_ , mate. So why’s he got all quiet on you all of a sudden?”

“None of your business.” Greg glanced back again, his expression somewhat mournful. “Just a misunderstanding, right?” He quirked a tiny smile at Mycroft, nodding his head. “Go on, Myc. Go home.”

Gratitude was on the tip of his tongue, but Mycroft turned away without speaking, still clutching his books tightly to his chest. He overheard a vague squabbling as he walked away, moving quickly enough that he was unable to parse out any words. He was fairly sure that Greg was telling his friends that he was to be left strictly alone for the remainder of the school year.

Only one more term, and then he’d be gone from this place, starting out fresh and new. Plenty of time to make his own friends. Right? Mycroft bit his lip viciously to stem the tide of tears lurking behind his eyes. A misunderstanding. Was that all that it was - was that all that it had meant to him?

Mycroft paused as he came to his front door, turning aside for a moment before walking in and through, depositing his books on the kitchen table as he stepped out into his family’s back garden. It was a trifle overgrown, and he kicked his way through to the furthest corner, ducking under the cast-iron arch that signified his secret hiding place. It wasn’t totally secret, of course. He and his little brother often played together here, acting out whatever whims happened to cross either of their minds. Lately the games had involved pirates, and Mycroft gently set aside the makeshift cutlasses that were scattered over the bench before sitting down.

He folded his hands in his lap and stared off into the riot of shrubbery as he went over the events of last Friday evening in his mind. Greg had offered him a ride on his motorbike - nothing more than that. He hadn’t asked Mycroft to go down on his knees, he most likely hadn’t even expected him to. And little wonder Greg had accepted Mycroft’s clumsy overtures - he was a randy lad; his sexual exploits were often the subject of gossip in the school’s halls.

Mycroft groaned as he leant forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. It _had_ been a misunderstanding, hadn’t it? On _his_ part, not Greg’s. Greg hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. He had simply taken what was on offer. That he had nothing to offer in return wasn’t his fault, and maybe if... Mycroft swallowed hard as he once again recalled the events of that night.

There had been a gleam of something in Greg’s eyes when he had suggested Mycroft ‘take care of’ himself. Something excited and curious, maybe even hopeful. Maybe the evening could have taken a much more intimate turn if Mycroft hadn’t been so easily offended, so - priggish. Maybe Greg would have touched him... Kissed him. Mycroft’s cheeks burned at the thought. Good Lord, he’d sucked the boy off without even kissing him first!

They’d both been shocked by his actions, and then his embarrassment had made him lash out unfairly. Yes, he had been hurt by the rejection, although Greg hadn’t been deliberately cruel - mostly just thoughtless. Mycroft had been angry, yes, but now he could see that he’d actually been angry at himself for taking such liberties and he had directed that feeling toward Greg instead.

Mycroft shook his head as he felt tears pricking behind his eyes. _He_ was in the wrong, not Greg. This whole thing was _his_ fault. He wiped at his face viciously as he stood with a jerk, tugging down his jumper and balling his hands into fists. It didn’t matter. He was nearly done with this school, with this place. He was going to University, where no-one knew him, where he could make his own way. He would find new friends, and they would like him for him, and not simply accept him into their circle out of some mistaken attempt at pity.

He would let things stand as they were, and he would move on. It felt a bit churlish to allow Greg to continue to think that he was the reason for the end of their friendship, but it was better this way - a clean break. Right? Mycroft lifted his head as he marched back toward the house.

Besides - even though he had behaved like little more than a tramp, he still had his pride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An apology of sorts, and maybe a new beginning?
> 
> Please do comment - feed the fickle muse!
> 
> xoxo

The rest of the term passed in a bit of a haze. Although Mycroft no longer took pains to actively avoid Greg, they still kept their distance from each other. Mycroft was actually fairly impressed that Greg did what he could to respect his wishes, but then, he had always been rather considerate despite his rough and tumble appearance. He still felt warmth low in his belly at the sight of those leather-clad shoulders, but he always managed to control any latent desire before Greg could catch sight of it in his face.

But then his stomach erupted into boiling when he saw Greg’s jacket draped over a different set of shoulders, much more narrow and petite. They did make eye contact that time, over the girl’s blonde ponytail. Greg’s cheeks coloured, and he bit his bottom lip as he looked at Mycroft almost guiltily. And then he shrugged as if to say, _‘What did you expect?’_

Mycroft shook his head and turned back to his locker, his knees trembling. Only a fortnight left - he could do this. In truth, he didn’t even need to be coming to his classes every day. His marks had been recorded, and they were all excellent as usual. He could skip these last weeks completely if he wished.

But there was still his pride, wasn’t there?

********** 

Somehow, he made it through. Turning to his locker one last time, Mycroft spun the combination lock almost through muscle memory. Although he’d always kept it as tidy as possible, there were still scattered biros and other bits of detritus that he wanted to clear out before leaving this place behind completely.

He paused as a folded piece of paper fluttered from the upper vents, dropping his bag at his feet as he reached up to grab it, unfolding it carefully. Mycroft instantly recognised the handwriting as Greg’s, and he took in a deep breath as he started to read, his guts churning slightly.

 

_Myc -_

_I know that you wanted me not to talk to you any more, that you told me to lose your number. But I couldn’t let you go off to Uni without trying to apologise properly. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did. I was daft and thoughtless and I’m really really sorry. I know that I’m still being daft, but I was really hoping we could be friends again. Nobody gets me like you do, Myc. Nobody ever has. I’m gonna go mental, stuck here with the yobs without you to talk to. You make it better, you always have._

_We don’t have to talk about what happened if you don’t want to, or you can ask me to grovel on my knees to make up for it. I will, honest. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. We can even pretend it never happened, just carry on like before. I still want to be your friend. Please, Myc. Please don’t lose my number. Either way, just let me know, okay?_

_Again, I am so sorry._

_-Greg_

 

Greg had scribbled his mobile number on the bottom of the note, as if Mycroft hadn’t put it in his own phone _and_ memorised it nearly three years prior. He felt a quick pang of regret as he realised that Greg thought he might have deleted it.

Mycroft stood there in the corridor as students swarmed towards the exits, their excited chatter echoing off the metal lockers. He skimmed the letter several more times, although it was already committed to memory. His stomach gave out a quiet rumble and suddenly settled as relief rushed through his body. To hell with his pride, to hell with starting over - they could still be friends. He could accept Greg’s apology and they’d forget it ever happened and he wouldn’t have to go on alone.

He could still have him.

Fighting off a grin, Mycroft stuffed the carefully folded note into his pocket, patting it into place next to his mobile. Sweeping everything out of his locker and into his bag, Mycroft swung it over his shoulder. He slammed the metal door shut with a bit more force than intended, listening to the bang echo along the corridor as he headed for freedom. There was a distinct bounce in his step as he descended the stairs one last time, and Mycroft paused at the bottom to look around.

There were clusters of students all along the green, laughing and chattering excitedly about their holiday plans. He saw a few more of the older students embracing fondly, some with tears on their cheeks. He supposed that this transition could be considered bittersweet, but he was only feeling elation as he turned toward home. Elation, and anticipation.

Mycroft went straight to his room when he got home, tossing his bag down on the floor as he flopped down on his bed. He giggled faintly as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his mobile and the note. He debated about playing it cool, maybe making Greg wait an hour or two before responding. But he was simply too giddy to wait.

_‘For the record, I never deleted your number.’_

_‘Myc! Oh thank god. I’m sorrysorrysorry...’_

Mycroft grinned wildly at the garbled apologies.  _‘Greg, it’s all right. I certainly had a hand in the misunderstanding myself. I’d really prefer not to discuss it any further.’_

_‘Done - no problemo.’_

_‘Thank you.’_

_‘So how is packing for your move to Uni going? Need any help hauling your shit to your new digs?'_

Mycroft heaved out a small sigh of relief at the immediate change of subject, thinking that maybe it really would be just like nothing untoward had happened between them. _‘No, that’s not necessary. My father will be driving me up and I’m not really taking that much.’_ Mycroft paused for a moment, tapping at the side of his mobile.  _‘And Sherlock will be joining us. I imagine that it will not be an entirely peaceful trip.’_

_‘Poor little mite. He’s gonna miss you. Almost as much as I will.’_

Mycroft swallowed, his heart tripping gently in his chest.  _‘Actually, I was hoping you might check in on him from time to time. You know how he gets sometimes...’_

_‘:-D’_

Mycroft frowned slightly at the little smiley face. _‘Dare I even ask what that is supposed to mean?’_

_‘You two just crack me up. Pretending to be all nasty to each other and all.’_

_‘*sigh* Granted, but that doesn’t mean that I really want him moping about and possibly destroying any of my remaining belongings. Will you? You’re one of the only people he can tolerate, oddly enough. Perhaps he’s just as susceptible to your unsavoury charms as the general public seems to be.’_

_‘Like you? ;-p’_

_‘Greg, please.’_

_‘Okay, okay. Yeah, I’ll look in on him. Honestly, it’s no problem. You know I actually like the little bugger.’_

Mycroft smiled fondly.  _‘I’m sure I have no idea why.’_

_‘Oh, c’mon. At the very least, he’s interesting. Almost as interesting as you.’_

Mycroft dithered over his mobile, unsure how to respond. Although the tone was just as friendly as it had ever been, there seemed to be an undercurrent of something else there that he couldn’t quite identify. It was on the tips of his fingers to ask Greg if he was flirting with him when his phone pinged with a new message.

_‘So what subjects are you reading?’_

Mycroft took in another breath and let it out as he rolled over onto his stomach, preparing to type away most of the night, just as he had many nights before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipping ahead a bit...
> 
> Please do comment - I heart you all!

Mycroft absentmindedly tapped his pencil against the edge of the desk in his dorm room as he read through his revision notes for the third time. It was probably well past time for him to take a break - his eyes had gone gummy and his back was starting to ache. He startled slightly as his mobile pinged at him, shaking his head to clear it of circular arguments.

_ ‘Hey. What room are you in?’ _

Mycroft stared at the text message, his brow furrowing. Ever since he had accepted Greg’s apology all those months ago, they had established a sort of camaraderie that was entirely different than what they had shared before the - incident. Although still delicate and somewhat fragile, it seemed to hold much more promise at the same time. Even the simplest of statements from Greg had the potential to make Mycroft doubt his own conclusions and he often found himself wishing for something that was quite beyond his range of comprehension.

Rather than attempting to ponder out Greg’s meaning, knowing that the simplest conclusion was often the correct one, Mycroft went to the window and looked out. He sighed deeply as he spied Greg dithering at the end of the walk leading up to the dormitory, his head swivelling as he scanned the blank windows for signs of activity. Mycroft heaved his window up, wincing slightly as the wood screeched in protest. He leant out to wave the figure over, fighting against the euphoria rising in his chest as Greg punched the air in victory and trotted over, a wide smile lighting up his face.

“Greg, what on earth-”

“Budge up.”

With another deep sigh through his nose and a distinct roll of his eyes heavenward, Mycroft stood to the side as Greg clambered in, going arse over teakettle as he toppled into the room. Greg laid on the floor for a long moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he grinned up at the figure looming over him. Mycroft turned back to his desk chair, clutching at his stomach as it roiled with nervous uncertainty and excitement. Settling himself back down, he folded his hands together in his lap and waited as Greg scrambled to his feet, politely closing the window and drawing the blinds before perching on the end of Mycroft’s bed and looking at him expectantly.

“Why are you here?” Greg scratched idly at the hair at the back of his head as he seemed to contemplate the question, the movement making the hem of his shirt ride up slightly. Mycroft felt the tips of his ears heat as his eyes were drawn to that sliver of flesh, skipping over the light dusting of dark hair leading into the waistband of Greg’s jeans. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“Well yeah. S’why I came in the window - could hardly knock at this hour, could I?”

Mycroft heaved out a breath, reaching for his pencil just to have something for his hands to fiddle with. “Granted - but  _ why _ are you  _ here _ in the first place? How did you even get here - did you ride that blasted motorbike of yours all the way out here in the dead of night?”

Greg stared at him blankly. “How else would I get here?” His teeth flashed in a bright grin as Mycroft raised an eyebrow, holding out his hands in appeasement. “I missed you, Myc.” 

“Missed me?” Mycroft frowned as he grabbed his mobile, waving it around erratically. “We talk nearly every bloody day!” He tossed both phone and pencil back onto the desk as he stood, starting to pace the small distance from bed to door. “You’re terribly distracting.”

Greg dropped his eyes to the floor as he shrugged diffidently. “I - I wanted to see you.” Mycroft stopped by the door, turning to stare at him in disbelief. Greg held his gaze as he stood, shuffling just a bit closer. “No, I  _ needed _ to see you. Couldn’t stand it any more - you being so far away and all.”

“Why?”

Greg huffed out a laugh, reaching out to trail his fingers over the back of Mycroft’s hand ever so lightly. “Don’t you know?”

Mycroft threw up his arms in exasperation. “No! I don’t know anything where you’re concerned. You  _ baffle _ me.”

He shrank back against the door as Greg continued to advance on him, his knees trembling so hard that he thought they may just give out on him. He looked into those dark eyes, so menacing in the wrong light, so warm and inviting now. “Then I’ll make it simple for you.” Greg’s breath tickled at Mycroft’s skin just before their lips met, no longer than a fleeting moment that nevertheless felt like it lasted hours. 

Mycroft’s whole body flushed as thought and coherence fled.  _ “Greg.” _

Greg shook his head at the tone of Mycroft’s voice, something full of disbelief and yet desperately needy. “No. No, Myc. No games, I swear.” He dared to reach out to clasp Mycroft’s hand, smiling shakily as damp fingers reluctantly curled into his. “I like you. I really like you - always have. I was just afraid of what it meant, thinking about you all the time and that night - I know, I know, I said I wouldn’t talk about it, but please...” He turned his best puppy-dog eyes on Mycroft’s suspicious expression, fighting a grin as his friend visibly melted, his shoulders dropping just a bit. “That night, I honestly didn’t mean for anything like that to happen. You’d never been on my bike, and I wanted to... Impress you, maybe? I dunno. It felt so right having you behind me, moving with me, holding me close - and then when you did -  _ that _ \- I just... I got excited, I mean, ‘course I did - seeing that you wanted me that way, and I let it happen. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it - you looked so pretty down there and it felt so damn good...”

“And then you refused to reciprocate.”

Greg hung his head shamefully, his voice a mere whisper. “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make it right - but it kinda scared me. Thought I’d maybe bluff my way through, but then my stupid mouth...”

Mycroft blinked down at the top of his head, cautiously giving his hand a squeeze. “You... You’d never had that done to you before?”

“Not by a bloke, no.” 

Mycroft blinked again. “Had you - anything - with a boy?”

Greg shook his head, glancing up at him through unfairly lush eyelashes. “No. Only you. There aren’t any other blokes that I - well. It’s only ever been you, Myc.” One corner of his lips turned up as his dark eyes twinkled merrily. “And out of all of them, you were the best.”

“I... Ah.”

Greg sidled just a bit closer, nudging his hip into the side of Mycroft’s thigh. “I think it was your, um, enthusiasm that really did it for me.”

Mycroft took in a deep breath, trying to still the spinning in his brain. “And now you wish for a repeat performance.” Even he winced at the coldness of his voice, wondering where it had come from. 

“No, Myc.” Greg laughed quietly and grinned cheekily as he shucked off his leather jacket, casually tossing it at the foot of Mycroft’s bed. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you offered, but that’s not what I want right now.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over Mycroft’s lips before trailing his fingers down the front of his shirt. Biting his lip, still looking up at him with those big, dark eyes, Greg went up on the tips of his toes, whispering in Mycroft’s ear. “I want to do it to you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg clarifies his feelings, and Mycroft gets a treat. 
> 
> Hehehehe...
> 
> Please do continue to comment - I adore you all!!!

_“Asfguh.”_ Mycroft bit his tongue to keep it from making any other ridiculous noises, shaking his head as his eyes lingered on that damn jacket. “You - you s-said...”

“I know. I know what I said. And I know it hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot - like, a lot a lot and I think that I just said it wrong. I’m not _a_ cocksucker.” Mycroft’s brain reeled with conflicting impulses as Greg smiled at him, that easy, carefree grin that made him look like an imp. “I’m _your_ cocksucker.” Greg’s expression shuttered slightly. “If you’ll have me.”

“I - oh, God.” Mycroft tipped his head back against the door as he felt nimble fingers running up and down the zip of his trousers, practically holding his breath to keep himself from hyperventilating. The steady thumping of his heartbeat in his ears nearly masked Greg’s inquisitive hum, low and deep, murmured into his jaw. Not trusting his voice, Mycroft nodded curtly, his lips pursing as he mumbled his assent. _“Mmhm...”_

With nothing more than a gentle tug, those wicked fingers were inside his trousers, tickling at the bulge of his cock over his pants. “Oh, Myc - you’re already so hard for me.” Greg sighed happily, somehow pressing in even closer. “I want to make you feel good, sweetheart. Will you let me?”

“Please...” Mycroft let out another indiscriminate sound as Greg’s fingers wormed their way into his pants, deftly drawing his cock out. “Hnnngh, oh...”

 _“Woah.”_ Greg staggered slightly as Mycroft nearly collapsed against him, his body shuddering from top to toe. “I think maybe we should sit you down for this, yeah?”

Mycroft nodded fervently, silently commanding his feet to work properly as Greg shuffled him closer to his bed. He sank down into a sitting position, looking blankly at his exposed cock as it stared up at him somewhat balefully. He sucked in a harsh breath as Greg eased his way in between his thighs, going down on his knees in front of him. “Greg...”

“I’m here, Myc.” Mycroft slumped forward, resting his forehead against Greg’s as he soothed his hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “I’m here for you.” They each tilted their heads just so, their lips meeting as though magnetised.

Mycroft found himself breathing easier as they kissed, his jumbled thoughts rearranging themselves in his head. Most of them seemed to be along the lines of _‘oh my God this is actually happening’_ , which - while factual - was rather too obvious. So he strove to shut out the noise in his brain, focusing instead on the pressure of Greg’s lips on his, the slickness of his tongue as he licked his way into his mouth, the feel of his fingers working the buttons on his shirt loose. He heard Greg’s sharp inhale of breath as he broke away to look down, running his palms over Mycroft’s chest hair in delight.

Greg bit his lip coquettishly as he glanced even further down, one hand pushing gently at Mycroft’s chest as the other slid down to wrap around him. Divining his meaning and yet still bewildered by every action Greg took, Mycroft leant back, bracing his hands on the bed behind him as he granted easier access to his straining cock. Greg glanced up, his nerves showing in his face and in the slight tremor of his hand.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do.”

Mycroft nearly swooned on the spot, his heart jumping in his chest. “Th-this is f-fine for now.” He took in a deep breath at the first tentative stroke. “Um, just to get a feel for it. L-lightly.”

He swallowed hard as Greg tilted his head, the both of them watching in silence as his hand moved over Mycroft’s cock. He felt an indistinct flutter in his belly as Greg flexed his fingers around him, apparently testing his hardness and his girth. Mycroft moaned under his breath as Greg licked his lips, something in the set of his shoulders becoming more determined as he apparently came to terms with the task in front of him.

His hand came to a still as he glanced off to the side, suddenly noticing the additional bed tucked up in the corner of the room.

“Um. Do we need to put a sock on the doorknob or something?”

Mycroft’s eyes were glazed as he stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. “Hm? Oh... N-no. I don’t have a roommate.”

Greg sat back, chewing fretfully on his bottom lip as he ran one finger along the underside of Mycroft’s cock. “How’d you manage that?”

Mycroft shrugged, slipping off his shirt and wiggling his hips as he got himself more comfortably situated. “I’m not sure. None of them seemed to last longer than a fortnight, and after number five, they simply stopped assigning anyone else to this room.”

Greg’s eyes glinted up at him in amusement. “Insufferable bastard.” Bolstering himself, he leant forward and gave the very tip of Mycroft’s cock a little kiss. He sat back, licking the smear of pre-come from his lips. “Hm. Not bad.”

“Have some more.” Mycroft reached out to wrap his fingers around the back of Greg’s neck, drawing him back down. “Go on. L-lick it up.”

“Christ. You always this filthy?”

“I wouldn’t know. You’re the first.”

Greg glanced up in surprise, his breath tickling over the head of Mycroft’s cock. “Wait - so you’d never done it before either?”

Mycroft tried to smirk, his fingers moving restlessly up into Greg’s hair. “Perhaps I’m just a natural?”

“I’d say you were a smug git, but...” Greg flickered his tongue over the slit of Mycroft’s cock, lapping up the pre-come that was trickling out. He hummed low as he glanced up again, grinning widely. “You did get me off rather spectacularly.”

Mycroft sighed, sucking in his belly in an attempt to keep it from trembling. “I don’t know how you expect to learn if you keep talking like that.” He tugged at Greg’s hair, something deep inside quieting as his eager pupil gasped and blushed, scooting closer in anticipation. “Do shut up and get your mouth around me, already.”

“God, Myc, you...” Any other words were obscured as Greg obeyed, gently drawing just the head of Mycroft’s cock into his mouth. He closed his lips around the corona and sucked, pressing his tongue to the underside and pushing upward as he slid down just a bit. He pulled off with a slight pop, continuing to stroke him as he glanced up, his dark eyes somehow bashful and yet inquisitive all at once.

“Yeah.” Mycroft nodded in approval, tugging at Greg’s earlobe. “You’re doing fine - try a bit more licking, maybe.” He blushed hard as Greg quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe a nibble or two.”

Greg giggled and started to lean back in, coming up short as his hand bounced against Mycroft’s bollocks. “What about these? Do they like attention?”

Mycroft gasped and shrugged his shoulders, his expression twisting into bewilderment. Then he seemed to shake himself out of it, tilting his head and taking on a more curious demeanour. “Let’s find out, shall we?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always super appreciated!

Greg grinned and reached out to tug impatiently at the tangle of clothing wrapped around Mycroft’s upper thighs, drawing it further down as he tilted up his hips to help. He yanked it down as far as Mycroft’s ankles, leaving him somewhat constrained in his movements and yet fully exposed. Greg quickly slipped his shirt over his head before bending back down, granting Mycroft only the most fleeting of glances at his bare chest.

Mycroft bit his lip as he looked down at the mass of dark hair in his lap, at the lean lines of Greg’s half-naked body. Hardly daring to breathe, he bent over and stretched out to touch, lightly running his fingers along the small of Greg’s back. He dug in his nails as he sat back up, his cheeks flushing at the low moan and little wriggle of delight his tenderly brutal touch generated.

Greg tilted his head as he ducked down lower, cheekily winking as Mycroft spread his legs even further. He teased at Mycroft’s scrotum with his tongue, cautiously plucking at the loose skin with his lips. He finally sucked one in as Mycroft narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips in silent admonishment. His head fell back as Greg gently tugged it away from the clench of his body, rolling it on his tongue. Mycroft was aware of making a noise, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to classify it.

He ran his fingers through Greg’s hair as he let the first drop from his mouth, moving on to the second. He paused for a moment, licking his lips as he looked up at him speculatively. “Good?”

Mycroft blinked languidly, tightening his grip slightly. “Yes, very good.” He drew Greg in closer. “Do it again.”

There was a flash of bright white teeth and a huff of laughter, but Greg obeyed, carefully closing his mouth down around the neglected sphere and giving it a harder tug than the first. He hummed as he cradled it on his tongue, his eyes twinkling merrily as Mycroft gasped and squirmed against him.

Greg’s eyes crossed briefly as he tried to focus on the cock waving in front of his nose, his brow wrinkling as a drop of pre-come oozed down the shaft. Mycroft abruptly tugged on his hair, pulling him off impatiently. The brief glare of outrage that Mycroft received for his actions dissolved into nervous understanding as he angled his cock toward Greg’s spit-slickened lips.

“Suck me, Greg.”

Greg stuck out his tongue in an adorably childish show of impudence, but in the next moment he eagerly licked up the clear liquid that had dribbled out, chasing the trail to the source. He closed his lips around Mycroft’s girth and sank down just a bit, looking up at him with those damned dark eyes.

Mycroft’s breath caught in his chest, and he cradled Greg’s face in his hand, running his thumb over his cheek. “Such a lovely picture you make with my cock in your mouth.” Greg fluttered his eyelashes and squeezed at the base, giving it a little twist. He must have seen something shift in Mycroft’s face, as he tensed slightly when his grip moved to the back of Greg’s neck. Mycroft shook his head ever so lightly. “Don’t worry.” He showed his teeth as Greg shivered under his hand, gooseflesh popping up under his fingers. “Just take a deep breath and open wide.”

Greg made a noise, something vaguely dissenting and yet intrigued, but he obediently did as he was told, taking in a solid breath through his nose and holding it as Mycroft guided him down. Greg’s fingers tightened around him, but he did not fight Mycroft’s hold, instead keeping his neck loose and pliable. Mycroft sighed as he pushed up with his legs just a little, concentrating his attention on the head of his cock and how it felt nudging at Greg’s throat.

He held him down just a moment more, relishing in both the physical sensation of tight, wet heat on his cock and in the realisation that it was _Greg_ that was on his knees between his thighs. It was _Greg_ that had his mouth on his cock, who was fighting to hold still for him, who wanted to please _him_. Oh Good Lord...

Mycroft flexed his fingers and then let him go, carefully controlling his breathing as Greg pulled off slowly, leaving a great deal of spit behind. His brain reeled as Greg grinned at him in sloppy triumph, his lips swollen and beautifully red. Mycroft groaned as Greg took advantage of the extra slipperiness, his hand sliding slickly as he stroked him.

“Still good?”

“Fuck _yes_.”

Greg tried to hide his smug grin by ducking back down, working his tongue around the head of Mycroft’s cock and bobbing down. It took a few strokes before he found his rhythm, hand and mouth working in tandem, sucking, swirling, squeezing and swallowing as he moved.

Mycroft murmured low words of praise, his fingers clutching at shoulder and neck, feeling each quiver of excitement racing up Greg’s spine as he basked in his approval. Greg whined low in his chest as Mycroft pushed up a little harder, making puppy-eyes up at him as he sucked feverishly. Mycroft felt the corners of his lips turn up slyly, and he ran his fingers through Greg’s hair as he purred down at him.

“Makes you hot and horny, doesn’t it? Having my cock in your mouth, feeling how hard I am for you... I imagine you’re quite hard, too - throbbing and needy, just aching to be touched.” He shook his head almost mournfully as Greg nodded, his eyes wide. “You’re not to touch until you make me come, my sweet little cocksucker. You’re to make me come, and you’re to swallow all of it, you hear me?” Mycroft threw his head back and moaned up at the ceiling as Greg re-doubled his efforts. “Oh sweet _Jesus..._ ”

Mycroft thrust harder and faster, panting erratically as he felt the pressure reach overload and he must have spit out a warning, but Greg didn’t heed it. Instead he once again did exactly as he had been told, sliding down as far onto Mycroft’s cock as he could reasonably take and swallowing down as much as he could. Mycroft thrashed and squirmed as he came, his fingers digging so hard into Greg’s shoulder that he was sure he heard a tiny whimper of pain from his eager supplicant.

He babbled something vaguely apologetic, forcing himself to let go even as Greg sank down further. Mycroft’s eyes rolled back and he let his body follow, flopping down on his back on the bed, the muscles in his thighs twitching with aftershocks. He jumped and cursed as Greg pulled off with a sticky pop, staring up at the ceiling but somehow unable to see a single damn thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the finish - finally! 
> 
> Please do let me know what you think, even if I did drag this out far too long for such a relatively short story...
> 
> Kisses to you all!

Mycroft was still blinking the stars from his vision as he felt the bed shaking underneath him, as the warmth of Greg’s body came to hover over his own. He reached up to grasp hold of Greg’s hair as he descended on him with a filthy kiss, giving back as good as he was getting, thrusting his tongue in deep and swirling it around.

He was aware of the bitter aftertaste that lingered on Greg’s tongue, his brain stuttering over the recognition of his own essence. _‘I really should stop drinking so much black coffee.’_ Mycroft almost snorted into Greg’s mouth as that thought flashed through his mind, but he already knew that he wanted this to happen again, and the best way to ensure that would be to make it as pleasant as possible for the recipient, wasn’t it?

Not that Greg had seemed to mind at all. In fact, it appeared as though he had rather enjoyed it. Mycroft tested this theory, tightening the fingers of his right hand, running his left hand down, squeezing at Greg’s right arm as it moved fitfully between them. Greg gasped and whimpered, but he obediently let go of himself as Mycroft tugged on his wrist.

He swallowed hard as he trailed his fingers down the lean belly, the muscles pulled taut in anticipation. Mycroft smiled slyly as Greg trembled atop him, pulling his head up so he could see him properly. He opened his eyes as Mycroft gave him a little shake, another tiny noise slipping from his lips. His eyes were huge and nearly black in the half-light, the pupil practically consuming the entire iris.

His features twisted with desperation as Mycroft slid his hand just a bit further down, daring to tickle at Greg’s bollocks, firm and tight under his touch. Greg’s body jerked as Mycroft wrapped his fingers around his satisfyingly hard cock, and he allowed his head to drop into the cradle of his neck as he began to stroke him.

The angle was a bit odd, and of course his left wasn’t his dominant hand, so the motion was slightly jerky and probably wouldn’t have been sufficient under different circumstances. Now, however, it seemed to be perfect, as Greg continued to pant into his collarbone, his entire body quivering, held tight as a bowstring ready to release.

And it was all because of _him_.

Mycroft purred in Greg’s ear, tightening his grip as he stroked faster. “Turned you on, did it? Having my cock in your mouth, feeling me come down your throat? Did you like how I taste?” He licked his lips as Greg nodded, mumbling his assent into the side of his neck. “You want to do it again, don’t you?”

“Yeah...” Greg lifted his head and their eyes met for one agonising moment before he dropped his gaze to Mycroft’s mouth. “God, yeah. Over and over. Fuck, Myc - _please_.”

Mycroft twisted his wrist, showing his teeth as Greg’s body jerked again. He cupped his jaw and forced his eyes up to his once more, refusing to let him look away. “Next time, you’ll put on a show for me, Greg. Strip and dance and touch yourself. Make yourself come like a desperate little tart. You’ll get down on your knees for me, won’t you?” Greg’s arms seemed on the verge of giving out on him as Mycroft drew him down, putting his mouth to his ear to whisper. “And then I will fuck your face until I come.”

The low wail seemed to begin somewhere deep in Greg’s belly, and he stifled it as best he could against Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft hummed low as wet warmth erupted over his fingers, gentling his touch as Greg quivered and squirmed, soothing him through his orgasm. He let out a quiet grunt as Greg collapsed on top of him, running his fingers through his hair and caressing the back of his neck.

Mycroft waited a few moments for Greg to gather his wits about him, and wiggled the fingers of his left hand, pulling a face at the somewhat slimy sensation spread out between them. Greg huffed out a low exclamation and rolled to the side, carefully peeling their bodies apart. He quirked a lopsided grin at Mycroft as they both looked down at themselves in vague disbelief, still half-clothed and smeared with come.

“Jesus Christ, but you’re a dirty bastard.” Mycroft felt his cheeks burn with mortification, but it settled into a pleasant warmth as Greg leant in to brush their mouths together in a barely-there kiss. “Never knew you had it in you, but I love it. Hell, Myc. I just want you to fuck me all up.”

Mycroft blinked vaguely. “I think I might be amenable.”

Greg snorted and sat up, reaching for the box of tissues nearby. He set about trying to wipe up as much as possible, including Mycroft’s fingers, but mostly managed just to leave shredded bits of tissue over the both of them. He bit his lip and shrugged as Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t suppose you can sneak us into the shower?”

Mycroft hummed as he considered. It had gone nearly two and although he was sometimes aware of other students shuffling off to the toilet in the dead of night, he was fairly certain that they’d be safe. He reluctantly rolled to his feet, blushing as he nearly tripped over the pants still tangled around his ankles. Mycroft shoved his way out of them, ignoring Greg’s frank stare of admiration as he hastily threw on his dressing gown.

He turned around with a warning on his lips, stopping short as Greg shucked off his own clothing, leaving just his pants on for modesty’s sake. Mycroft shook his head to clear it, gathering up his toiletries and a couple of towels. “We’ll have to be quick. Can you behave yourself?”

Greg’s eyebrows contracted briefly, but then he grinned easily. “Might as well ask you the same thing, you great perv. Yeah, I can behave.” He glanced to the window as he stepped closer. “And then I guess I better...”

Mycroft shook his head curtly, reaching out to tug Greg even closer still. “No. Stay with me. Please?” He stretched up to press a kiss to Greg’s forehead. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep, thinking about you driving back down all by yourself. Stay safe with me for the night.”

“Just for the night?”

Mycroft looked down at Greg’s fingers curled tight into the fabric of his robe, almost as if he were afraid of letting him go. “We can talk about that in the morning.” He wrapped an arm around Greg’s waist and led him toward the door, nuzzling gently at his ear. He breathed out a sigh as his lover - _‘oh my God, we made love’_ \- shuddered pleasantly against him. “But no, not just for tonight. I’m nowhere through with you, Lestrade.”

Greg looked up at him, his dark eyes sparkling merrily through a rather sombre expression. “No, Holmes. I’d bloody well say that you are not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I foresee Greg finding himself a job in town, maybe at a garage? Mycroft petitions to be allowed off-campus living arrangements, and of course the Uni agrees, and so our boys start living together and maybe there are a few bumps along the way, but there's lots of hot, dirty sex to see them through. Of course they live happily ever after...)

**Author's Note:**

> Not brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. Come follow me, and you'll get pretty boys and soft kitties on your dash!


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